


Clear as western skies

by mwestbelle



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Mail Order Brides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Bob gets a mail order bride, and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear as western skies

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted June 4, 2009)

All things told, Bob wasn't that desperate for a wife. There weren't a lot of women way out in the new territory, and the ones that did come were usually snapped up by men who were younger or at least more forceful about it than Bob was, or they were working girls, dancing down at the saloon. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to get married. He just wanted a wife for things like helping him around the farm and having someone to talk to on warm nights. It seemed awfully unfair to snatch up one of the few available and willing women when he had the Iero's boy on hire for when the harvest came and Dixie to curl around his feet when he sat out on the porch at night. Any lingering wanting he had was easy enough to put to rest with a night of drinking and dancing with the good-time girls. But when some poster showed up in the general store, proclaiming that hordes of women would love a hard-working husband, and that you could get yourself a genuine wife straight from the coast if you only sent in your name and five US dollars, well. Bob figured it couldn't hurt.

He forgot about the poster, mostly. He had a farm to work, animals to take care of. The Iero boy, Frankie, was more trouble than he was a help most of the time, but he meant well, and an extra pair of hands never went completely awry. He didn't believe in teaching animals tricks--he wouldn't like it much if someone waggled food in front of his and tried to get _him_ to roll over on the ground--but he did manage to convince Dixie to sleep at the foot of his bed, which he was pretty proud of.

The train always came in around one, and the long low whistle generally lured half the town's inhabitants down to the station. Bob just set the bowl he'd eaten his lunch out of the way and went back to work. He didn't have any family back home, so he wasn't expecting any mail or visitors, and he wasn't the kind of curious busybody to want to know who else was getting mail or visitors. Frankie was precisely that kind of busybody, though, and Bob knew not to expect him until a good forty minutes late on days when the train came. When he did come, he'd be bursting with gossip and hardly helpful at all, but Bob needed helping hands whether or not they were attached to a running mouth.

But that Friday, he didn't hear Frankie banging the front gate open until near three.

Bob rested his hands on top of his hoe and looked up at Frankie. The kid was flushed, a little sweaty, with his cap jammed down around his ears. Bob snorted and shifted back into a working position. "You been peeking through the windows at the saloon again?"

"They're here," Frankie said. Bob looked back at him, and Frankie grinned at him. " _Wives._ " Bob dropped the hoe.

Frankie followed him all the way back to the station, bouncing around him like he hadn't walked near two miles already this afternoon. "You gonna pick a pretty one? Or one with the, you know." He paused just long enough to hold his hands out in front of him in an impersonation of comically large breasts. Bob batted him out of the way.

There was still a crowd milling around, gaping at the newest attraction in town. Frankie disappeared immediately, ducking under some arms and weaving into the knot of people. Bob frowned; he didn't come to town often, and just to pick up supplies from the general store or to play a few hands of cards at the saloon. He wasn't much a fan of crowds.

Bob moved around the outer rim. There were a few flashes of color from inside, finer clothes than he'd seen in months. There were women there. One of whom he was supposed to marry. He wasn't sure how he would know which one he was meant to be with. He waited, listening to snatches of conversation, and watching as men pushed their way out with a heavy arm around a woman's shoulders.

"Bob! Bob, come in here!" Bob shifted at Frankie's voice and he shook his head. He didn't want to fight his way into the crowd, even though it wouldn't be too difficult to shoulder past a few people. He headed for the store instead and placed an order for some wheat and say hello to Ray.

Ray nodded towards the window with a little smile. "One of those out there for you?"

Bob snorted. Ray is postmaster too, he was there when Bob sent in the five dollars. "I suppose. Can't say I wouldn't have liked a little warning."

"You better watch out or there won't be anything left for you." Ray laughed, and Bob did too, but he wasn't so sure it would be such a bad thing. Now that the wives were here, it struck him how strange it would be to fit a woman into his life. Someone in his fields and in his kitchen...even in his bed. It wasn't the sort of thing one thought of while sending off five dollars and a name to some company back east.

He stayed inside, shooting the breeze, and when he came out, the crowd was almost entirely gone. There were a few stragglers, people who lived in town and farmers who were probably at the saloon anyway. And there was a woman sitting on a trunk, dark shiny hair curling around her neck from under a hat that didn't quite match her dress.

She watched him while he walked closer and when he stood in front of her, she held up her hand wordlessly. There was a crumpled piece of stock paper tied around her wrist that read _Mr. BC Bryar_.

Bob's belly swooped but he took her hand and nodded. "That's me."

She let him pull her to her feet, then let go of his hand to readjust her hat. Bob watched her and swallowed hard. She straightened up and gave him a tiny smile. Bob offered her his hand again. "I'm Bob."

She looked down at his hand, and Bob realized that the last thing this woman wanted to touch was his dirty calloused paw, but she kept smiling and took his hand in hers, shaking it gently. "Gee."

Her voice is certainly not a choir of angels, but if she was too sweet, Bob wouldn't know what to do with her. He looks down at her trunk and swears loudly before looking back at her. "I. Sorry, ma'am. I wasn't thinking...I walked."

Gee looked at her trunk and then at Bob. She bit her lip and took a breath before shifting to grab for the handle. "I can't carry it far, but--"

"No, god. No." Bob grabbed her shoulder without thinking about it. She peered up at him, and her eyes seemed almost dangerously large and equally as green. "I'll get Ray--he runs the general store--he'll hold it overnight for me. Us."

Gee just kept looking at him, and Bob realized he was still holding her shoulder. He let go and hefted her trunk. It was heavy, and he staggered a little while carrying it towards the store. He didn't notice she was right behind him until he set it down between the door and heard Ray's absurdly cheerful, "Well hello there!"

Bob looked over his shoulder. "You could've waited out there for me."

"I need." Gee licked her lips and ducked her head. Bob could see a dusty flush rising in her cheeks. "There are...things I need." He frowned slightly until she hissed " _unmentionables_ " at which point he turned brilliantly red.

"I. Fuck. Sorry. Of course, you. Ray?" He looked hopelessly over to Ray who shook his head and came over to pick up the trunk.

"I'll put this in the backroom for you, ma'am, you can take out whatever you need there."

Gee shot Bob a look, cheeks pink, and disappeared after Ray. Bob leaned against a shelf full of dried vegetables and closed his eyes. He was going to be the worst husband in the world.

The walk back was uncomfortable and silent. Gee clutched a brown parcel that Ray had kindly drawn up for her to her chest, instead of carrying it by the string. Bob had offered to carry it for her, but she looked at him as though he had three heads. He supposed it was slightly inappropriate for him to carry her...unmentionables, but they were going to married just as soon as they got to the preacher, so he couldn't find too much immoral in it. Still, she wanted to carry her own things.

His farm had never seemed so far out of town, but they got there eventually. Gee hesitated and let Bob pass her when they reached the little dirt path. He held the front gate open for her, thanking god that he'd fixed it last weekend so it swung open nice and smooth now. She walked in front of him, a weirdly mesmerizing swing in her bustle, and he forced himself to step ahead again when she paused to let him open the front door for her.

His house wasn't clean, but it wasn't too much of a mess. Bob did not actually live in his own filth. He was a fairly neat guy, just because he liked things to be in their proper place.

By now it was past dinner, too late to cook anything up, but he had a loaf of thick brown bread with fresh churned butter that he offered her a few slices of. Gee sat at the very edge of the bench in his kitchen, nibbling at her bread and taking furtive sips from the cup of fresh water from the well. She seemed a terrible skittish thing, and Bob wasn't sure how he would fit her into life on the farm.

During dinner, he could at least pretend to be enjoying a companionable silence and not an awkward one, but once it was over, there remained the simple fact that all that was left was to retire for the night.

"I reckon you're tired." Gee nodded and Bob rubbed at his beard. "Well, I'll. Would you like some time to change, in private?"

"I." Gee's eyes were big, watching him, and Bob wondered if she had signed up to be married at all for how afraid she looked. "We're not married yet."

Bob frowned a little. She was right, but it wasn't as though they weren't going to be married in the next day or so. "Well, no. But it's close enough, don't you think?"

"I." Gee shook her head. "I will not share a bed with anyone but my lawful husband." Bob frowned a little and she made a soft frightened sound. "I'm sure you understand. I...it's as much for your benefit as mine. I'm not. I'm--"

Embarrassingly late into her ramble, Bob realized that she was afraid of _him_. Of what he could force her to...he knew that a city girl like her must have heard some horrible things about the men in the territories. And a good deal of it was true, but not for Bob. He may not have all the delicate social graces of one of her boys from back east, but he was no...he wouldn't. He cut her off as soon as he could finds words. "No, 'course. I. Please. Take the bed, I'll sleep in, uh. There's a loft."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Thank you."

"Sure. Sure, it's. I'll...we'll go for the preacher in the morning."

Bob spent the night in the hayloft, and the next morning, he discovered that there was a line of a dozen couples already waiting outside the preacher's door. Gee did not seem too broken up over the news, though she did nearly drop a cast-iron pan on her foot.

And then the preacher came down with a nasty cold and wouldn't be able to perform marriages for at least a week. Bob went back to his normal work and tried not to think about how little he saw his bride-to-be. He hadn't thought it would be possible to avoid the person you lived with, but he saw her at mealtimes. He wanted to ask her to sit on the porch with him at night, but as soon as dinner was done, she would scurry away to his bedroom. He was worried, but Dixie seemed to like her, so he let well enough alone.

Frankie came on Tuesday to help Bob repaint his fence--he would be a married man soon, he ought to have a nicely painted fence--and went straight to the porch. "Is she here? Did you get a pretty one? Saw Mister Wentz and he said that she's got--"

Bob grabbed Frankie by the back of his collar and hauled him down the porch steps. "She's not a _pet_ , or. She ain't a bauble, Frankie, she's a person and a right decent one at that, and I won't have you talking about her like that."

Frankie swore a streak that would have made his mother slap his face, and Bob wasn't sure if he imagined the sound of quick footsteps inside the house.

It was the next Saturday that the preacher was finally feeling well enough to marry them, and Bob dressed in the only suit he owned. It was a bit tight across the shoulders now--it was a going away present to himself, and he'd certainly bulked up running his farm. Gee wore a pretty blue dress. Her hat obviously didn't match, so the careful drawing up of her black hair was bared. Bob found himself wanting to curl the little wispy tendrils at the base of her neck around his fingers.

The ceremony was short--there were two baptisms to be done and another three weddings--and when the preacher told them to kiss, Bob barely brushed his dry lips against hers before they were shooed out of the way by the beaming Wentzes and their squalling baby.

Bob had hoped to get a bit more of a kiss in once they were home, but Gee vanished into the kitchen, and the banging that resulted made Bob more than a bit wary.

He came back at dinnertime to find that her sniffling into a suspiciously wet bowl of dough.

"Fuck." He didn't apologize for it this time, and he came to stand a little behind her. She wiped at her eyes and sneezed with a honk. Bob looked down at both of their feet. "I'm sorry you got stuck with me. I ain't...I know a pretty girl like you was probably hoping for something better."

"It's. No." Gee hiccupped and looked up at him. "I'm not...fuck." Bob had heard the girls at the saloon swear, but never a city girl, and he was silent for the long pause before she continued. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

Bob frowned. "For what?"

Gee looked at him, and then down, and back, before sighing. She raised her hands to unbutton the high neck of her dress. Bob wasn't entirely sure what this apology entailed, but so far, he didn't like the way it was going. Not that he wasn't interested, but he had a feeling that a crying woman unclothing herself should be stopped. He reached over and grabbed her hand when she hit the third button. "Don't. You don't have to--"

"No, I do." Gee batted his hand away. He fought her, closing his hand tight around hers, because he didn't _want_ this, not when she was crying, not if she didn't. Gee looked up at him with wide, watery green eyes, then a wrinkle formed at one corner of her mouth and she reached up with her other hand and ripped her dress open, buttons flying and the fabric falling open across her bust.

Bob looked away as quickly as he could, but he couldn't help but glimpse her...pillows. He looked back, slowly, not quite believing his eyes. He let go of her hand, and it dropped to her side. She took a deep shuddery breath and reached up to pluck the two small pillows, each hardly bigger than his fist, out of the dress, leaving bare a soft but decidedly masculine chest.

"I had debts," Gee said, voice just the slightest bit different. A little lower, and a little less breathy. "Gambling. I couldn't pay, and. It was a free ticket. I never thought I'd--I was going to get off a stop early but there were men from the company, I couldn't get away."

"Fuck," Bob said with feeling. Gee looked down.

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to--I was going to leave. It shouldn't have gone this far."

Bob couldn't think of any response, so he just said, "Fuck" again. Gee nodded, and Bob watched her--him. Him, and now that Bob knew, there seemed to be a thousand signs. The curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and wasn't his mouth so obviously a man's? "Why didn't you leave?"

Gee colored, flushing the same pink that seemed so delicate when Bob believed it to be staining a woman's cheeks. "There. The train. Where was I supposed to go? I couldn't--I couldn't steal from you."

"You could have," Bob pointed out. "You were. You were in the house all day. You were in my bed. I never would have caught you."

"I _couldn't_." Gee looked back into his eyes. They sat there, watching each other, for a few moments before Bob shifted his weight.

"You want to come sit on the porch?"

"I. What?"

"It's awful nice out there at night." Bob shrugged one shoulder. "Seemed like it would be a good place to sit and talk. Dixie's only so much company, not much for conversation."

Gee stared at him. "You want me to. You want to sit and talk? On your porch?"

"Mmm," Bob agreed, nodding once. "My whiskey bottle's looking pretty empty, but there's a pitcher of lemonade cooling under the back stoop."

Gee was still staring at him like he was insane, but he moved towards the door. "I'll pour us some."

Bob nodded again, and he went out to the porch, settling into his usual chair. A few minutes later, the door banged open again, and Gee was there, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to Bob and sat in the chair next to him.

They sipped in silence, and Bob could feel Gee's nerves prickling in the back of his neck, ready to bolt like a skittish horse. He finished his glass of lemonade and sat the empty glass next to his foot.

"I just want someone to work by my side and sit out here with me. I ain't particular."

He looked over at Gee, who shook his head. "You're incredibly strange."

Bob shrugged and settled back in his seat. Gee's hand was warm when it rested just above his knee, and so was his mouth at the corner of Bob's. Bob turned his head a little so their mouths met properly. It was soft, and so warm, and clear like western skies. He married this man, even though he didn't know it. He knew now, though, and truth be told, he was awful fond anyway.


End file.
